


Go ableist white boy go

by GORDONG SLURMAN (SYLIIC)



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Dead People, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore, Not Beta Read, Other, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27721012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SYLIIC/pseuds/GORDONG%20SLURMAN
Summary: You're just a simple HEV suit mechanic caught in the right place at the wrong time, and end up tailing Gordon Freeman, a boisterous, bordering on sociopathic 27 year old with an ego (and baseless paranoia) bigger than the space shuttle Columbia.Things go wrong, per usual.
Relationships: Freemind/reader, Gordon Freeman/Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

Never in a million years you would have believed it if someone told you a paranoia-driven theoretical physicist accidentally opened a rift between two dimensions with a glorified glowing rock, making aliens teleporting randomly into a goverment operated research facility you were currently in, causing severe structural damage, and have the military try to kill everyone in the building indiscriminately. Yet here you were. Covered in alien goop and blood, fresh and dried; and most definitely the blood not all your own; wearing a deceased security guard's vest and helmet for what little protection it could provide againt the horrors of Black Mesa. Two scientist huddled behind you, as you fired at the the troddling headcrabs and houndeyes that B-lined towards you and at your first and last line of defense, Dr. Freeman. 

He was.. An interesting guy, to say at the very least. Handsome, but talked his head off non-stop with a few very unsavory choice words strewn in his stream of consciousness. Majority of the time, however, he's talking to himself rather than to you. You just figured he liked the sound of his own voice, or perhaps that it was keeping him grounded in this seemingly never-ending nightmare.

You started to ride on his skirt-tail almost immediately after the Cascade hit. Sitting still like the scientists insisted and letting the anxiety, and possibly the headcrabs, eat you up alive didn't sound like a very promising fate to be met with. Chances of survival seemed much greater flanking the gruff guy in the HEV suit, though not by much in hindsight. Two hours into following him made you come to the sickening realization that despite his pretty, freckled, ginger dreamboat exterior, he was absolutely batshit crazy. Not in the Joker from Batman kind of way where it's messed up but understandable, but in the senile TimeCube man but fucked up seven ways to sunday kind of way. Half of the loggerrhea that came out of his mouth made absolutely no sense, whatsoever, in any metaphorical or literal context, and the other half is him chattering about the alien biology, his near constant need to fuel his drug abusing tendencies, complaining about his injuries, or cussing out just about anything that moves.

"Hey dumbass, are you just gonna stand there and stare at me? I'll leave your gawking ass and won't think twice about it if you dont snap out of it before they're through cleaning me up." 

Speaking of which.  
But he's right. They need to get a move on. "Sorry. I'm coming," you half yelled, jogging towards him and the scientists who were a few yards away. One was giving him a shot of morphine while the other cleaned whatever that greenish-yellow body fluid was to these aliens out of a nasty gash on his forehead. Despite his shallow breath, he huffed out,"You," he motioned vaguely in your direction, too preoccupied with squeezing his eyes closed and gritting his teeth due to the sting of rubbing alochol now being applied to his injuries,"Go scout ahead. Take my revolver too, but you better come back with it or I'll hunt you the fuck down."

Still hasn't bothered to learn your name. Unsuprising. Though, you know the last sentence was an empty threat. You have been the one helping keep his HEV suit calibrated and functioning properly this entire time. That was your job afterall; you knew the suit better than the back of your own hand practically. While he acts like he could survive without you, and he probably could if he played his cards right, he was too rash and threw himself in harm's way far too often.

You approached him and gently picked the gun off the ground beside him, where it layed haphazardously amongst the rest.  
"I'll be back soon," you assured.  
"You better be." Was the response you received.

Though partially amused by him throwing another empty threat, the dread of facing whatever disgusting creatures awaiting ahead alone was stronger than the fleeting lightness of your mood. You thought it better to just leave it at that and deal with the mission at hand instead of focusing on the anxiety. He already looked tired, and the added effects of morphine didn't help. He looked like he was staving off sleep and barely winning by the skin of his teeth- he couldn't do much of anything like he was now. It was strange seeing Dr. Freeman, in all of his emotional volitility, be so relaxed, though he looked rundown more than anything.

He needed his rest. 'You can do this,' you mentally spurred yourself on, pushing past the dim, metal doors.

_________________________

"You look like shit," Was the greeting you were met with. No 'are you ok' or 'is it safe'. Typical, but not entirely unsuspected of him. He was the embodiment of the term "Thorough Bred Asshole" that's for damn sure.

"Thanks. I can tell without your input," you rumbled back tiredly before reporting," I cleared the area for the most part. There is soldier activity ahead though and it's pretty dark in there now." One of the scientists quietly offered their labcoat to you to clean yourself of the new layer of thick green goo and blood that now covered you. 

"Do you need a shot?" He offered.  
You simply shook your head no. You weren't too terribly hurt for a shot luckily, though still in obvious pain. It wasn't enough for a morphine dose. Technically Dr. Freeman's injuries weren't either, but he was edging on withdraw symptoms due to his abuse of the drug, something that the small group was painfully aware of due to his consistent bitching about it.

Dr. Freeman had been staring you down since you got back, possibly gauging how well you worked alone based on the aftermath. He stood from his spot on the floor and began to collect his weaponry, apparently satisfied enough with whatever he was silently judging you about. 

"Let's get a move on then. A couple of boot boys won't be a problem," he hummed out lazily. Despite his tiredness, he didn't take a nap while you were gone apparently, or at least got a wink in that did any good for days of little to no sleep and extreme muscle fatigue.

"You're still tired, we can wait awhile still, you know?" One of the scientists pointed out, continuing,"The military aren't like the aliens, they know exactly where to shoot and kill. It's not smart to go into battle in your current state." 

He was right, having a man high as a kite on a battlefield wasn't the smartest idea. And apparently Dr. Freeman could sense your's and the other scientist's silent agreement with the bordering on buldging-eyed face he was making. Ah, about to be yelled at again. Predictable-- 

"You think just because I let YOU borrow my fucking revolver, you're on top the world, huh?? You think you can survive in this fucking hellish cesspit without me??" he marched to where you stood idly, snatching the aftormentioned gun from you and sticking his finger against your vest, punctuating his already venom-soaked words with rough prods,"WELL YOU CAN'T. I'M THE FUCKING BOSS MAN HERE, NOT YOU. I'LL DO WHAT I VERY DAMN WELL PLEASE, GOT IT SMARTASS?" 

Ahh, another perdictable move of his. Targeting who he thinks is the biggest threat so he didn't have to waste the energy to yell at everyone equally. there's a lot to not like about Dr. Freeman, but the one thing you absolutely hated was the fact he didn't comprehend that people have autonomy. He thought whoever comes out on top will have a heard of sheeple to follow suit, and this alien invasion situation was only solidifying his stance. 'be pacient,' you told yourself, beging to rub your temples in annoyance.

"Now you're just making baseless assumptions. If I thought I could survive by myself, I would of left a long time ago. You're high and tired- you need to rest, but sure, be my guest if you want to run into harm's way and bust your suit up again. I won't fix it this time though," you shot back. His empty threats and irritation were rubbing off on you too much, but he was making an already stressful situation even more stressful. Hopefully your words would knock some sense into him.

________________________

Your words had the opposite effect. Of fucking course they would. Why did you even think you could change his mind? He was absurd, violent, and always had that irrational need to prove something-- anything-- to the world. You have no idea how he became a theoretical physicist with his impulsitivy and overall aggression towards any task at hand. If the alien genocide he was committing was any indicator, he was better suited as a one man army or in an underground gladiator-esque fight club-- Actually, yeah. He was almost exactly like if Tyler Durden had severe paranoia. And with how you were feeling now, you would say it right to his face, but you couldn't. All it would cause is more volitile reactions out of the already mildly disgruntled man, and draw unwanted attention from the military. 

The small group silently stalked onwards in the dark, maze-like area in pairs due to Dr. Freeman's altered state of mind. You followed closely behind the theoretical physicist, opting to hook your hand between his reenforced armored compression suit and the backplate for directional assurance in the dimness. The warmth that radiated from his body gave little comfort in the air conditioned labrynth they were now trekking, but it was much needed comfort nonetheless, though, it left you wanting more. He stiffened at the motion, your eyes barely catching the movement of his head. "Are you pussing out on us now? I half expected you to when I told you to clear the area," he hissed over his shoulder.

"What? No," you said defensively, before whispering back,"I can barely see. When I came in the first time the lights were still on, but when I was heading back, the lights went out. I probably should of looked for a switch before I left." This bit of information made Dr. Freeman slow dow to a stop.

"What do you mean by 'went out'?" He prodded.  
"Like, y'know.. They just went out. Without warning," you replied, unsure of where he was going with this.  
"Shit," He said, abandoning his whispering tone, turning to face you fully, which made you let go of the grip you had on him,"That means they know, why didn't you say anything before, you stupid prick?" His voice sounded urgent, yet scolding.

"I-I did! I said it was dark now! It's not my fault you didn't think anything of it until now."  
"I didn't know you meant the lights! I thought you meant like the time of day- who the hell just offhandedly tosses out information like that like it's no big deal?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of a muffled gunshot rang out-- a silenc--?  
Something hit your helmet. Hard, and it left a stinging sensation. The force slammed your head into Dr. Freeman's HEV suit plate, enough to make him stumble back.  
The shock left you dazed and impaired your senses somewhat. There was shouting, mostly distant, but there was a booming voice near your ear. Couldn't make out any words through your sudden mental fogginess though. 

You were grabbed and repositioned roughly, blinding light suddenly filling your eyes and louder-- no closer-- gunfire filling your ears, causing you to shut your eyes tightly and grit your teeth. You were aware enough to take note that you were being partially dragged. Another sting, far worse than the first, errupted in your arm, causing you to yelp and try to claw up the metal frame that hauled you, stopping the new set of gunfire and starting up the all too familar and booming voice of a very annoyed Dr. Freeman. The fear had now fully set in alongside the confusion and semi-awareness, your heart pounded so strongly it felt as if it reverberated in your head, your breath was shallow and fast- hyperventilating. 

You don't want to die. Not now. God, not here. You gripped onto him tighter trying to breathe desperately, trying to ground yourself with his presence, the only thing somewhat comforting in your confusion. His gunfire picked back up temporarily, though quickly stopped again, and then he busted out into a full on sprint, lugging you along like the world's most useless suitcase, only to be suddenly discarded into a small, dark room. His frame was only visible for a second before the door was slammed shut and his gunfire continued, slowly growing distant.

You're alone. In the dark. In pain. You shivered, it being a mix of anticipation, anxiety, and the coolness of the concrete floors. You pulled your knees to your chest and covored your head with one arm, the other felt like dead weight, even through the adrenaline. A soft whine escaped your lips now that you were aware of the pain again. You don't want to be alone. You don't want to be alone. You don't want to be alone-- sniffling...? It caught you off guard momentarily, but you quickly realized it was your own when a fat, hot tear rolled down your face. The sudden feeling of being pathetic hit you, front and centre.

Here you were, shivering and crying like a baby, while Dr. Freeman fought them off by himself. You weren't prepared for any of this, yet you still feel so pitiful for not being adaptable. Dr. Freeman probably abandoned you, or at least is planning on it for leading them into an ambush. You tried to choke out a sob, silently begging both to not be heard by the enemy and to not be abandoned.  
______________________

You dont know how long it's been, but the gunfire had slowed drastically, enough time for you to get ahold of yourself. You gripped your gun in your hands, breath now even asides from the occassional shakey exhale. You wanted to get up and out there, to help your irrate companion, but couldn't find the courage to do so. So you sat in wait. Trying and failling to talk yourself into opening the door.

Finally the gunfire has stopped completely. You don't know if its relief you feel or apprehension at this, too many emotions at once, and it was bordering on nauseating, so you lie in wait longer. When nothing happens, you manage to draw up the mental fortitude to stand and open the door. Light flooded in, revealing that you were stuffed in a janitor's closet; shells and blood littered the ground before you. Not a good sign. Your quiet, rolling footfalls where slow and deliberate, avoiding bullets and loose concrete. Walking blindly in the direction of where you heard Dr. Freeman's gun shots wasn't a smart idea, but you had nothing else. Maybe he really did leave you.. 

You rounded courner after corner, clinging to the wall with slow movements, doing all you can to not draw any attention. A few bodies were cluttered about in groups, however your heart only dropped at the sight of both scientists- both dead, not far off from where you last saw them. A harsh swallow and tear-pricked eyes shortly followed after seeing this sight. You gently rocked on your heels, trying to control the reaction with repetitive movement.

'calm down, calm down, calm down...' 

After a moment to somewhat recover, you continued onwards. It wasnt long until you hit a dead end; you almost turned back around, but the flicker of a vending machine's light lit the area lightly, and in the edge of its white light, a familiar orange backplate and ginger hair was gently illuminated. 

Your heart dropped.

Was- was he dead? You scurried over to his side, forgetting your stealth entirely. Kneeling down beside him, you checked his pulse and breathing. Both slow, but there. He was alive. You tilted your head back to let out a sigh of relief. Thank god. Time to check the damage. 

You tugged him into the light of the vending machine, and inspected him. Nothing too awful. A bullet had nicked his cheek, and a few ricochet injuries; nothing crazy. You pushed him onto his back, muttering,"Let's get a good look at the otherside.." Turning his head gently in your hands.

You really wish you didn't.

Scrambling back in shock and nausea, your hyperventilating was back. What the fuck did they do to him-- the familiar, fuzzy tingle at the back of your neck made you painfully aware that you were about to vomit. You had to get away from him for a moment. Standing shakily, you moved to the far corner to spit out the little rations you had for the day, causing your throat burned. It took a moment to recover from that, your brain feeling like pure tv static- unable to think clearly for a minute. It took longer to regain composure again. Another set of deep breaths. 

Finally, you turned on your heels to deal with the situation at hand. Nothing nearby to stop the bleeding. He was just going to have to hang in there while you dragged him back to the closet he stuffed you in. You tried your best to drape him over your back, but his weight and your temporarily lame arm wasn't going to allow it to happen. You had to settle on looping your arm under his armpits. This position strained your arm and made your movements cumbersome, not to mention the raking of metal against the concrete floor, but you had no other options. You couldn't abandon him. 

It took awhile, a lot of dry heaving and pain, but you managed in one go by persistance and a miracle. Your arms were hurting and tired, but you still had to clean and patch him up. You closed the door slowly before flicking the light on and rummaging through the shelves. You managed to come up with two medkits, a towel, and some water bottles. You tucked the towel around his neck before pouring the water gently over his empty, bloodied socket, taking the edge of the towel to pat him dry gently around the injury. The nausea was back, but the initial shock was gone- you could deal with the discomfort. However, the water managed to aroused his awareness. He groaned weakly, opening his unfocused, pained eye. He instinctively reached a hand to hold over the hole in his head, but you caught his hand before he could.

"Don't, let me clean it."

You were met with a bewildered look. He had moved his head in an awkward, frantic motion, attempting to see you.  
He choked out,"What the fuck why--" his voiced died on his lips, replaced by a weak whimper.

You set the water bottle down and let go of his wrist, moving your hands to hold his head to look at you. He adjusted as needed once you were in view. 

"They-- I don't know, I just found you and your eye was just.. Gone. I don't know." You tried to explain, but you couldn't. You werent there. 

The fear that now etched his face hurt. His eye pricked with hot tears from the pain. Seeing him pissed and smug as hell was far more preferable than this, especially the latter. Now he looked so.. Lost. Christ, now he was going to make you cry. His eye suddenlg overflowed and a tear dribbled down his face, causing you to instinctively rub it away. Mild embarrassment of how somewhat intimate the action was hit you instantly, recoiling your hand to not make the already uncomfortable air between the two of you to worsen; however, Dr. Freeman snagged your hand and returned it to it previous position roughly. Muttering softly through gritted teeth as he pressed his face lightly into your hand, half nuzzling it slowly for comfort,"Stay like that.." 

Oh. Even when he's down he's still demanding, but most importantly, the man was touch starved. You guessed it's not that shocking in hindsight, seeing as how he was a wack-ass bastard majority of the time, but still was somewhat unexpected. 

His eye fluttered close, causing another tear to reluctantly to slide down his cheek. Again, you wiped it away carefully, yet continued to stroke his cheek, smearing the blood on his face more. It was strange seeing him, explosive and boisterous Dr. Freeman, be so soft. So vulnerable. If it were different circumstances, you would have been more indulgent in comforting him, just to experience this side of him more. If you knew him better, you'd probably kiss his bloodied, tear-stained cheek, or press your lips tenderly against his eyelid in hopes of driving away those tears until the next time. 

....... Oh.

Well. There are definitely far worse ways to find out you're head over heels for a narcissistic nerd with a taste for violence. But that's not something you should be addressing right now. His injuries are far more important.

"We should clean you up now," you said lightly. He scrunched his brows, grumbling in protest, but allowed you to pull your hand away to continue cleaning the wound. He only began cussing you out and being more like "himself" when it came to dabbing rubbing alcohol around the socket, but other than that, he was rather mild-mannered while you were busy dressing the wound. 

You let out a drained sigh, taking up the empty space next to him against the wall, chugging the half empty water bottle to somewhat fill your recently emptied stomach, only to sputter slightly when whe took hold of your injured arm. 

"That hurt?" He mused distantly, looking at the chunk that was now missing from your arm, inspecting it with interest. Touch starved and handsy. But you didn't entirely mind. He was just trying to repay the favor, though it felt a little bad seeing as how he was visually impaired. Maybe it would help him get used to it? "Yeah," you replied simply, which spurred him on to clean and dress the wound for you without another word. He had to angle his head awkwardly to better his view, and his hands were surprisingly nimble in such fat, cumbersome gloves and half of his field of vision gone. Not to mention the face he makes when focusing intently. His brows knitted, and his lips pressed thinly with it tongue peeking out, or rolling absentmindedly against his teeth. You found it endearing. Cute even. 

"Thank you," you hummed with a small smile, which in turn caused him to say "Don't get used to it."  
"Too late for that," you grinned, amused that he was now trying to play it cool after melting in the palm of your hand like he did, but that was to be expected. What you didn't expect was him to take that as an invitation.  
"Well, in that case," he stretched, supressing a yawn. Before you could ask him what he meant, he got as comfortable as he could against the wall and tugged you closer, burying his face directly into your neck, feeling the tickle of his eyelashes as he closed his eye. 

You jumped reflexively at the warm breath and ticklish lashes that now tocuhed your neck, but relaxed just as quickly. He just wanted physical contact again. For someone with such an expansive ego, he was rather easy to please. Just give him some ammo, a cache of grenades, and apparently a pat on the cheek and he was good to go. It was as humorous as it was appaulling. 

Maybe Dr. Freeman wasn't entirely bad, seeing as how you managed to form a crush on him. It's just sad that you both had to meet under such horrid circumstances, but it gave you a renewed willpower to get out of Black Mesa alive. So you can explore this newfound bond hopefully. For now, however, sleep was heavy on your eyes, and Dr. Freeman's arm draped over you was a comfortable, added weight. It was hard to not give into the sweet lull of sleep alongside his now even breaths. And so, you fluttered your eyes closed, hoping that tomorrow had better luck to come your way.


	2. SUPER SLUR BOY ON THE NINTENDO DS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freemind is Big Pissy, and you accidentally beat the shit out of him with a crowbar (as you should 100%)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im in a white boy VGC world championship to be number one white boy to my friend and he asked for another chapter so here i am chucklefucks. 
> 
> Also freemind says a slur bc a point of criticism was that the chapter title of the first one was misleading and i wanna be true to his character 💔 also i suck at naming things so like. Yeah ignore the chapter titles.  
> Also unbeta'd bc im here for a fun time, not for major literary achievments

The next day wasn't so kind to either you as you had hoped. Your shoulder burned, stung, and ached deeply- a pain that could be felt to the bone it seemed. Dr. Freeman didn't attempt to remove the bullet due to his visual impairment, and you weren't about to dig a bullet out of your own arm without any tools. Not to mention doing so at the risk of worsening the injury; it was just best to be left alone for the time being and left up to someone with a steadier hand-eye coordination and better experience or qualifications for it.

Dr. Freeman, however, had it the worse between the two of you, both in injury and mood. His socket had apparently been irritated during the "night", and bled through the gauze and linens that where packed against the bloodied hole. You attempted to coax him into letting you clean it, but his irritibility was extremely volitile today. He instead wanted to find a med station more than anything, and that was what you both were looking for now.

"Goddammit! I said just fucking forget about it. Christ, can you hear the words coming out of my mouth? Are you mentally slow?" He sneered, picking up his pace lightly to get a few steps ahead of you. He was trying not to show it, but it was obvious the pain and blood loss was getting to him; he had kept subconciously holding his injury and pulling it away again a mintute or so later to be placed back on his assault rifle for the half-hour or so you both had been walking, having this on and off argument over his wound. His hand still going back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. And he slowly but surely veering off sideways towards the wall like a drunk again.

"Can you not be a dickhead for more than five fucking seconds? I'm trying to make sure you at the very least don't die of something stupid, like infection," you deadpanned. Last night's comfort was something so momentary-- it almost felt like a dream or a figment of the imagination with how you both were bickering now. You heard him let a heavy, aggravated sigh out of his nose, his head hangs down ever so slightly as he does so, and a cock of the rifle. A quiet warning of "shut the fuck up or i'll shoot". Tsk tsk. Whatever, you'll bite. It's not like he actually will do it. Maybe the preserverance would finally get to him. He has been oddly quiet today after all. Much too quiet compared to his usual insane ramblings that would occassionally bring a laugh out of you.

"If you were gonna shoot me, you would've done so a long time ago. Just get your panties out of a twist, man." You retorted, picking up your pace. You grabbed him lightly, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his bicep to correct his path. He quickly jerked himself out of your hold with a scowl, snapping at you defensively, "What the fuck is with you and annoying the hell out of me-- and don't touch me!" 

"Why? I remember not too long ago you were practically rubbing your face into my hand," you hummed smugly before explaining yourself,"I was just keeping you from running into the wall. Your depth perception isn't exactly the best now, you know." His face contorted into a blend of sheepishness and anger, but committing fully to the latter after a brief moment. He'll get over it in a little while. You turned your attention back ahead, opening your mouth to say something, but the words were lost on you now. They had disipated as quickly as they came. And that was because of the forceful, enraged hand that slammed you into the wall. The side of the rifle was flushed against the underside of your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. 

"Shut the HELL up! For FUCK'S SAKE! I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play, but I'M not fucking falling for it! You hear me? NICE and fucking CLEAR, you little, SICK son of a BITCH?"  
You could only gawk at him, baffled at whatever the hell he was babbling and spitting angirly about. You tried to say something, but before any sound tried to escape your throat, he bore down harder with the weapon, choking you. The tightness around your throat was causing panic to quickly rise within you, you impulsively brought your hands to the rifle, trying to push it away as you tried to gasp for air. Dr. Freeman seemed unmoved by this act of desparation, or was simply too angry to proccess it, because he kept on yelling directly into your face.

"YOUR ditzy ass lead us into a fucking trap made by the military. YOU had to not pay a bit of fucking mind with the lights going out. YOU got those two dumbasses fucking killed and I don't know there the FUCK they keep the morphine stashes around here outside of the terminals and if I don't get my fucking fix soon I'm gonna blow a FUCKING GASKET. Not to mention YOU'RE trying to use a moment of weakness against ME, like a GODDAMN SOCIOPATH, BUT, OHHH, I WON'T LET A MISERABLE PRICK LIKE YOU GET TO ME. I BET YOU PLANNED THIS ALL ALONG, HUH? WELL, YOU FUCKED WITH THE WRONG PHYSICIST, JACKASS!"

You didn't know what the fuck he was saying. All you knew was that you couldn't breath, and your quiet, choked pleas weren't getting through to him. Your survival instict was kicking into overdrive now, no longer did your brain think "Dr. Freeman" at the man in front of you; it now thought "threat threat threat threat!". And threats that can't be avoided have to be delt with. 

You moved a hand from the gun towards him, grabbing a handful of his ginger mullet behind his head, and with all the strength you could muster in your bordering on oxygen-depraved body, you bashed his head against the cool concrete wall he had you pinned against. He let out an agonizing wail at the contact, his grip on the gun was suddenly gone, causing both you and it to fall to the ground. You more so crumpled while it clattered. You gasped hungrily for air momentairly before clawing for the now discarded weapon and scrambling away, trying to put as much distance as possible between the two of you. 

"OW! What the fuck-- you fucking BITCH!" He swung is head around wildly for a moment, almost stumbling, trying to find you with his good eye, and once he did, he froze, noticing you had the rifle clutched tightly, aimed at him.

Wild eyes staring each other down. No sounds asides from the labored breathing that came from the both of you. No movement, just the thick, tense air of uncertainity, fear, and conflict.  
Though it was just two minutes of nothing happening, it felt like an enternity. Dr. Freeman had a look on his face, the cogs were definitely turning- analyazing the situation- but there was something still very instictual written upon his face.

Dr. Freeman finally made the first move. 

One hand feeling the wall, the other holding his head, he made a careful step towards you. You made an audible swallow at this, causing him to stop mid step on his second step. He bit his lip unsurely, staring at the assault rifle. Another moment of analyzing the situation. His fingers tapped thoughtfully against the concrete slab wall, filling the surrounding area with a new noise asides from the staggered, heavy breathing between the two of you. Finnaly, a hesiant, yet still firm,"Put the gun down," was said. He took another calculated step. This only made your grip tighten, you're knuckles turning white from the pressure. Your eyes glanced at the weaponry piled onto him.

He bit his lip again. His hands balled into fists- though the look on his face now read moreso nervous than angry.  
"Do you want me to disarm?"  
You nodded vigourously, the panic's hold on your throat hasn't loosened it grip quite yet for you to speak. 

He had hesitated for a moment before sighing. A harmonious blend of irritation and defeat. He slowly knelt down and began to remove his weaponry, unloading them and he did so to make sure the point got across thst he had no intention of harming you again. After a few minutes, he stood and began to approach you again. Guns, satchel charges, tripmines, grenades, everything placed neatly on the ground against the wall. Well, everything except..  
"Crowbar." You croaked out, warningly.  
"Crowbar..?" He repeated dumbly, but as soon as he said it the realizatuon struck him- he looked at where it was stuck to his magnetic belt's side.  
"You can't be fucking serious. You're pointing an assault rifle at me for fuck's sake," he groaned hoarsely, but abided, tossing it haphazardously in your direction. The metallic clatter caused you to jump. You leaned towards it and slid it under your leg to ensure he couldn't get it. 

He began to shuffle uncomfortably towards you again, until he was just a foot or so in front of you, and knelt down before settling into sitting criss-crossed. The tiredness, agony, and uncertainity on his face seems far more apparent today than usual. You just chalked it up to being the incident from yesterday and withdrawal. It still didn't make you feel any better or any pity for him after that display of aggression, though you felt similarly. He wouldn't make eye contact with you; you followed his eyes to see where he was looking and- oh. He wasn't a fan of the idea of you still holding a firearm. You quickly set it down, but still kept one hand on it.

He made a face when he realized you still didn't fully trust him after he disarmed himself, but still cleared his now more raw sounding throat and spoke gently,"I'm sorry for... That. Yeah.." He slowly wrung his hands, now more uncomfortable with your attention than he was previously. 

He started off slowly,"You see, uhm. Fuck, how do I say this without sounding like a fucking geed? Ah fuck it, not like that matters anyways since that whole thing yesterday. Back on topic Freeman, anyways, I'm--"

A headcrab threw itself onto him, and he let out the most terrifying screech you've heard in your life. He barely managed to keep it away from his face, shielding himself with his arm. You impulsively grabbed the rifle to fend off the alien, but Dr. Freeman shouted at you, "DONT FUCKING SHOOT THAT, ARE YOU TRYING TO GET ME KILLED WHILE YOUR AT IT? DON'T BE FUCKING RETA--AAAHHHH FUCK, FUCK, GET IT OFF! CROWBAR, CROWBAR NOW!" The small extraterresrial managed to tear his wound dressings off his face with a claw, leaving a gash as it did so. It clung desperately to his arm bracer at he tried to pull it off. You winced at the sight of his socket, causing your stomach to churn in distress.

Oh right, crowbar. You didnt have the time to yell at him for saying that like you usually did or to focus on the discomfort in your belly. You roughly pulled it out from under yourself and thwacked it, almost hitting Gordon on the head in the proccess, earning another shout of disapproval from him as he scrambled backwards, trying to get away from your heavy handed swings all the while trying to pry the feind off his arm. 

You stood quickly and gave chase,"Just stay still so I can kill it!"  
"KINDA FUCKING HARD TO DO THAT WITH YOU WIELDING THE DAMNED THING LIKE YOU ARE, DUMBASS," he replied hastily, narrowly avoiding another strike by you.

It took far longer than it should have to kill a lonesome headcrab, but you managed, and once it was over with, his face was a deep red, embarrassment and lack of oxygen from the constant hoarse yelling being the culprit for why he was tinted such a dark shade. Dr. Freeman's suit now had a few more dents and dings in it than before, and the side of his face was now puffing up and becoming discolored from a missed swing of yours, which cracked a tooth of his. You helped him up, which earned a mumbling groan of "Holy buttcheese chicken on a shingle, you somehow made me feel even more like utter shit than before" from him; he gingerly rubbing his cheek as he did so. You probably would have laughed if it wasn't for the mild guilt that was setting in. You put his arm around your shoulder holding his wrist and letting your other hand rest on his own as you lead him to a med station that you both had more or less forgotten about until now. 

______________________________

Once you both had used the terminal and returned leasuirely to where Dr. Freeman had left his firearms, you sat quietly against the wall, watching him fumble with the weaponry. You liked the satisfying clicks of him bumping the heel of his palm on the bottom of the magazine after reloading. You tilted you head back against the wall and closed your eyes, listening intently on his quiet rambling of narrating his every action as he did so. 

Once he stopped, you almost cracked an eye open, however the heavy footsteps that lazily approached you told you that he was coming to join you against the wall. The light buzz of the morphine keeping you from feeling the ache and pain of your body, and allowing a drowziness to somewhat set in, however sleep was the last thing on your mind.  
You heard the scrape of the hev suit as he slid down the wall face to sit beside you. You sat still for a moment before opening your eyes and looking over at your companion. His head hung and his arm were folded and resting on his knees, focusing on breathing and the high he was on. He was basking in the numbness comfortably. 

Apparently he could feel your eyes on him, because he spoke up, "Somethin' wrong?"  
"No, just.. curious."  
"About what?"  
"What you were going to say before the headcrab attack."

He seemed to stiffen slightly at the mention of this. "It's not important. It's just pointless baggage. I don't even really know where I was going with it now anyways," he brushed it off, hopping to another topic,"Also remind me to never let you have a crowbar ever again."  
You snickered at this,"Why's that?"  
"'Why's that?'! You almost pummeled me to death trying to kill a headcrab," he head snapped up, his face was beyond exasperated. You tried not to look at the bloodied hole on his face.  
"I was trying to save it from you, if it wasn't obvious," you joked, the mild high making you feel a bit giddy and at ease now, or as much of ease as you could be with the gorey face you looked into now.  
He simply scoffed at this, though the small grin gave himself away,"Pft, yeah, whatever."  
You stared at the puffy, busted cheek of his for a moment, gently dragging your hand over it abstentmindedly. This caused him to wince briefly, then look at you with puzzled, furrowed brows. Very unsure of the affection. After that outburst, you assumed it was because he thought you were going to use it against him in some way. You removed your hand, saying a simple "sorry".

He relaxed a little once more, he now stretched his legs out, resting his hands on his thighs and contemplatively drummed his fingers upon his hazard suit's armored thighs, moving his head to stare out in from of him and into the distance with firm brows.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.  
You watched him expectantly, but nevertheless paciently. You were starting to realize he was trying to put more care into his words when speaking with you now, and the effort was somewhat appreciated.

Tap tap tap tap.  
His tapping picked up in pace now, and he was begining to roll his tongue over his teeth now, an intense look crossing his face- conflicted about something. It wasn't often you saw that look on his face- it was usually reserved for moments of accidentally killing someone, followed by remorse and a a poor attempt to hide the fact he was very bothered by taking another's life when they weren't a threat to his own. 

Taptaptaptap- you grabbed one of his wrists to make him stop, pulling him out of his thoughts.  
He turned to you and blinked, suprised,"Huh?"  
"I can see the smoke coming out of your ears," you rolled your eyes,"And at the rate you're going, you're going to make your fingertips chaffed up and raw. Just say what's on your mind. It hasn't stopped you before."

"Right- yeah, ok," he swallowed dryly, lightly pulling his wrist away from you to hold onto his now criss-crossed armor calves. He continued to stare down at his grip on his legs, not wanting to make eye contact.  
"Soooo... Uhmm...... When this is all over with, can we, y'know.. Keep in touch?" He mumbled hesitantly, quickly adding on,"We've been through a lot of shit together as it is and- and I really don't think after all this bullshit I'll be able to trust much of anyone else. I know it probably sounds dumb and I shouldn't be asking after.. All of that but--"  
You smiled softly at this, interrupting him to chime,"That's more than fine by me."  
He finally looked at you, shock and relief etching his face,"You're serious?"  
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"  
"Great! So what's your number--"

This caused you to interrupt him with a sudden laugh, confusing Dr. Freeman. It took you a moment to regain some composure to say what you wanted so say, the look on his face would be priceless," I didn't- didn't take you as the type to be shy about asking others out." This earned you a very panicked, red faced Dr. Freeman.  
"That's-- Hey! Stop fucking laughing that's not what I meant, you idiot-- Stop it!" He grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you desparately, getting in your face as he did so. Personal space was always something lost on him when he was panicked or angry. You pressed an index finger against his lips, shushing him with a grin. He stared back with a wide eyed, searching your face almost wildly.

Despite how caked he was in dried blood, dirt, and grime, and his battered, gorey face, you still found yourself wanting to kiss him. He was right in your face, clutching your shoulders, leaning over you, and still hasn't moved an inch. There was tension between you two again, but it wasn't anything like it was before. You removed your hand from his face, allowing it to rest on his chestplate. Yeah, fuck it. You might as well kiss him. In the situation you both were in, there really is never a good time for something like this. This was the best timing you could get. 

You closed the gap between the two of you, tenderly kissing the corner of his mouth before pulling back a few centimeters, asking if the affection was welcomed while not potentially overstaying your welcome. You studdied his expression. His eye couldn't be any wider, and he tenses up entirely, but asides from that, he was unreadable. 

You started to pull back some more after a moment, seeing as how he wasn't making a move, but this suddenly spurred him on. He pressed his chapped lips roughly into yours, kissing needily. Hungry for affection. He tugged you up by your vest's shoulder straps, forcing you up on your knees so that he could get a better angle, to bask in the contact. Trying to forget the stresses of the utter hell Black Mesa had become in temporary, mild bliss the feeling of lips working in unison with one another and the relaxing buzz of morphine.

**Author's Note:**

> I am begging please split the fucking hlvrai and freeman's mind tags from the half life tags i am going to pop a hate boner /hj 
> 
> Anyways i made this for a friend bc they're having a tough time and there werent any freemindxreaders on this site for them so had to change that. my writing is mediocre as piss balls but das ok. Tried to make it sound like internal monolouging buuuttt kinda shot myself in the foot on that part. Oh well. Also it's a lil rushed but we dont talk about that


End file.
